


Toxic

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, also Sam and Dean aren't fighting, we're pretending Cas is still human okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-10
Updated: 2014-02-10
Packaged: 2018-01-11 20:54:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1177812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas gets drunk on Valentine's Day, and Dean should probably feel guilty. (He doesn't, really.)</p><p>(pardon the lame title, I'm lame)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Toxic

**Author's Note:**

> Oops I totally forgot to say it's based on this post: http://sluttycas.co.vu/post/76151081701/aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh-drunk-cas-bouncing-on-deans   
> (I'm deanthebrave there, and this is posted on my tumblr as well)... thanks if you read this!

Cas is really, _really_ drunk.

It was probably a bad idea, breaking out the alcohol on Valentine’s Day, but neither of them had plans, and Sam had decided to hit the hay early, so what else was there?

Booze. The answer is there was booze. Their options were limited to drinking and… drinking.

But Dean hadn’t anticipated Castiel being such a lightweight. They were both two—maybe three?—drinks in at this point, Dean not daring to break out tequila (he was masochistic, sure, but not that masochistic. Jesus.) and Castiel swallowing down each drink passed to him like they were shots, not bottles of beer. It was kind of unnerving.

Hence why he’s really drunk. Right now he’s stumbling slightly as he makes his way back to the couch from the kitchen, where he’s wandered into in search of a glass (“It’s classy, Dean—drinking from a glass is less depressing!” he’d insisted, waving an empty beer bottle at Dean to accentuate his completely invalid point). In his hand as he returns is definitely not a glass.

When Castiel is finally close enough for Dean to grab his wrist, Dean identifies what he’s clutching as boxers. Cas is holding his boxers wadded in one hand.

He giggles, hiccupping. “Dean, they’re mine,” he whispers conspiratorially. It’s so out of character—hell, it’s plain _wrong_ —that Dean shakes his head as if trying to snap out of a really trippy dream. But no, Cas is still there, drunk and now clambering into Dean’s lap eagerly.

He bounces up and down slightly in Dean’s lap, grinding against Dean without any sort of coordination, and it feels weird but good and it’s so different from the usual, reserved Cas that Dean wants to laugh.

Dean can feel himself getting hard and he groans out, “Cas, stop, man. You’re hammered, don’t do this now, you don’t want—” but Castiel cuts him off, pressing wet, hot lips to Dean’s opened mouth. When he breaks away, he whines, “I _do_ want.” He rocks harder, obviously recognizing the effect he has on Dean.

Dean shakes his head, leaning back to avoid kissing Castiel again. (He wants it, for sure, but not like this. Not when he knows Castiel will be ashamed and regretful tomorrow.)

“Let’s get you to bed, okay?” he pushes Castiel off him, gently, and Cas dutifully stands up, swaying when his feet are on the ground once more. Dean stands up, too, crowding in Castiel’s space, then curls a hand around Cas’ bicep and leads him away from the couch and to the hallway.

Castiel’s utter lack of coordination causes Dean to doubt they’ll make it all the way to Castiel’s bedroom, so he settles on nudging Cas into his own.

“Go on, sit down,” he coerces the ex-angel into settling on the bed, then undresses him until he’s wearing nothing but boxers and an undershirt.

“You, now,” he nods at Dean, gesturing loosely to indicate that Dean is still fully dress. Dean rolls his eyes, but complies. Then he climbs up onto the bed, crawling up and pulling the covers down.

“Get under the sheets, dumbass,” he says, poking Castiel, who follows the instructions and curls under the sheets, closing his eyes.

“Touch me now?” he asks hopefully, the sentence barely half-formed. Dean only shakes his head in response, pulling Castiel closer and slipping a hand under his t-shirt to rub his back in slow, circular motions.

“Go to sleep, Cas,” he whispers. “Maybe tomorrow.”

Castiel sighs, tucking his chin against his chest in a defiantly pouty gesture, but soon enough he’s asleep and for a long time, Dean listens to the steady whispers of Castiel’s breath against the pillow.

* * *

Castiel wakes up feeling tired, head aching. He shouldn’t feel tired if he’s been sleeping all night, he thinks petulantly. He inhales and immediately realizes that all around him it smells like Dean.

He’s in Dean’s room.

He’s in Dean’s room with a pounding headache and a dry taste in his mouth and he feels like he’s going to be sick.

He lurches up into a sitting position, looking around worriedly. Dean turns and looks at him from where he’s standing by the dresser.

“Hey, Cas, you got pretty drunk last night. Didn’t peg you for a lightweight, but anyways, you crashed here.” His explanation is bland and offhand, like a verbal shrug.

“I see. My apologies for any inconvenience,” Castiel manages to respond. He closes his eyes again, thinking back.

He remembers acting like a fool, probably damaging his relationship with Dean in the long haul. Before he can apologize again, though, Dean’s back on the bed and patting his shoulder soothingly.

“Don’t be sorry, dude. It happens to the best of us.”

Castiel is overwhelmed by a feeling of affection for Dean, and he buries his face in the crook of Dean’s neck.

Dean is stiff, not reacting, and then he’s wrapping his arms around Castiel.

Soon enough they’re undressing each other without any sense of urgency, and then there’s nothing but gentle touches and soft kissing, Dean’s mouth on Castiel’s neck leaving him breathless in the best way.

“Dean,” he murmurs, “please…”

There’s more touching and feeling and mapping out of constellations across planes of flesh, and it leaves both of them panting, sticky. But they settle into it and into each other, laying back, and staying there for a long time.


End file.
